Slicker than the guy with a thing on his eye
by Riddlemeister
Summary: Not to be smug or anything, but without her, they wouldn't be here now. She's just that awesome. Oneshot Santana POV on Faberry, post high school.


A/N: God. Somebody make these stories stop. I am getting absolutely nothing done. T-T

Lots of swearing. Sorry. But you can't really write a Santana POV without sprinkling the whole thing with a wide assortment of swear words.

* * *

><p>They're juniors in college, both shitting their pants because the real world is literally banging on their doorstep and they have nothing but cups and cups of coffee to defend themselves with. She's trying to stay afloat with her ridiculous workload and the LSAT and Quinn is drowning in note cards and figures, with the MCAT looming over her head. They're cooking and paying the bills and trying not to get killed on a day to day basis in New York City.<p>

It's ridiculous. But kind of fun, because both Santana and Quinn thrive on this kind of shit.

And it's this year that they finally run into Rachel Berry after what feels like a decade. She's coming out of yoga class, with her mat and tall guy in tow, when she rounds the corner and runs into Quinn hard enough to make her spill her coffee all over herself. Quinn says something about breaking the dumb bitch's patellas (Santana's dealt with this med school lingo for months now, enough to know she means kneecaps) when she realizes that the bitch is in fact Rachel Berry.

Santana laughs at the irony of it all, since there must be something about the three of them and the act of throwing cups of liquid at each other.

* * *

><p>A part of her doesn't like this whole Rachel Berry being back in their lives business. It's not like she's there all the time or anything. And it's not even Berry anymore. She's still annoying as hell, but it's safe to say that they've all grown up.<p>

But Rachel being there reminds her of her immature Lima self and it's kind of annoying. She's still a bitch and she still keeps it real, but she's also not the same person anymore.

It's not until she realizes that Rachel isn't the same person anymore that she warms to the idea of maybe sort of having Rachel in their lives once in a while.

* * *

><p>Except Rachel suddenly seems to be everywhere. Everywhere with Quinn.<p>

She tries not to read to it. Maybe it's Quinn's misguided idea of retribution—or whatever the hell it is that you call it—for years on end of tormenting the girl. And maybe it's Rachel's convoluted dreams of being Quinn's friend finally coming true.

Or maybe it's the fact that Santana's always thought that all that passionate hatred Quinn directed especially at Rachel must have been rooted in something other than her random desire to make the other girl's life hell.

Whatever it is, she's suddenly in the middle of it, going to happy hours and having movie marathons where absolutely no one can agree on which movie they're going to watch.

"Hermione should have picked Harry," Quinn says out of the blue, reaching for some popcorn.

Rachel's face is unreadable before she grabs the popcorn tub back. That's another thing about these movie marathons. The popcorn and the constant tug of war on who gets to hold it.

"Wha-Why? There isn't even any 'picking' to begin with," Santana crinkles her nose as she speaks, looking like she tastes something sour in her mouth, "Rowling obviously planned Ron and Hermione from the first book—I already knew they were gonna do it at some point. What with all that tension."

Santana sees Quinn roll her eyes. The blond opens her mouth, probably to say something about Santana's mind being perpetually in the gutter when Rachel interrupts her.

"Regardless of how J.K. Rowling planned the series, anyone who has read all the books or seen all the movies know that Hermione should have ended up with Harry," Rachel says quietly but with the same conviction as she would if she's arguing that Barbara Streisand is the greatest singer in the history of the planet.

Santana knows the look on her face shifts from disgust to horror and surprise in a split second.

"Berry, you would be a closet Harry and Hermione loony."

"I never hid my rather zealous obsession with Harry Potter when I was younger," Rachel adds with a matter of fact tone.

"I just always thought that the characters gravitated towards each other, even when J.K. Rowling didn't intend for them to. Harry always seemed as though the incredible load on his shoulders lightened up by even just a miniscule amount every time he looked at her."

Santana doesn't miss Quinn looking at Rachel from the side.

"It was subtle."

"Fictional characters don't have minds of their own, Berry," Santana counters, "They can't decide who they end up with."

"Have you ever written a story before, Santana?" Rachel asks suddenly. Quinn, who has been quiet up until then, makes a noise next to her, trying to stifle a snort. Santana shoots her a look before turning to Rachel with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Santana retorts, "Do I look like a Shakespeare wannabe to you? I have better things to do with my life."

"It may have all been subconscious on J.K. Rowling's part. Seeing as she modeled Hermione after herself and Harry after a childhood friend of hers," Rachel continues, "And I am in no way implying that Hermione did not harbor any legitimate feelings for Ron either. It is quite possible to love more than one person."

"But we almost never have a choice in who we fall in love with."

Santana's mouth clamps shut, but only for a second. She relaxes after a minute, yanking the popcorn tub away from Rachel and sitting back in her seat.

"Whatever," She huffs, throwing some popcorn into her mouth.

"You're fucking crazy, both of you."

* * *

><p>And then she doesn't see Rachel at all for a week and she actually finds it weird. Jesus, what has the world come to?<p>

She actually texts Rachel, wondering if she's coming over for Saturday night movies. It doesn't surprise her when Rachel responds with a lengthy text, saying something along the lines of rehearsal and not being able to make it.

And then Santana looks at the extra bitchy Quinn butchering some onions in the kitchen and she casts a line.

"Hey Q! Is uh, Rachel coming tonight for movies?"

Quinn almost cuts her finger.

"Oh, no," She says after she recovers. "She has work."

"Oh yeah?" Santana asks with a small smirk. "And here I was under the impression that she's at rehearsal. At least, that's what her text says."

Quinn's head shoots up and the chopping starts.

"She got the lead for NYU's spring musical?" She half yells excitedly before closing her mouth and realizing what she just did.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Santana asks, crossing her arms and looking at Quinn with that face.

"It's nothing," Quinn answers firmly, going back to cooking.

"Q," Santana starts but then the sharp look on Quinn's face shuts her up.

"San, drop it."

And with a sigh, she does.

* * *

><p>She's gonna fucking kill her. She's actually going to gut that bitch when she sees her.<p>

Santana starts swearing, reaching for the light and orienting herself. She just got off of the phone, answering a call from one of Quinn's pre-med friends who's asking her to pick up a very drunk Quinn from her party.

Santana throws on a hoodie and some jeans—because it's fucking four in the morning and she doesn't particularly give a shit at the moment, especially since she has a midterm in five hours—and makes her way out of the apartment to pick up her belligerently drunk roommate.

She gets there and slings Quinn's arm around her shoulder, helping her out of the apartment.

"Santanaaaa," Quinn starts singing and Santana remembers how incredibly annoying Quinn gets when she's drunk.

"What is it Q?"

"I have to pee," Quinn whines, making a face. Santana rolls her eyes and drags her to the nearest McDonalds, where the fucking clerk insists that she buy something before Quinn can use the bathroom. She really is going to kill this bitch.

"San," Quinn starts talking again as they make their way to the subway. "I can't make it go away."

"What, you're already getting a hangover while you're still drunk? That's impressive."

"No, no," Quinn whines, waving her hand maniacally. "I, I—Let's call Rachel. Or let's visit her!"

"Babe, hate to break it to you but I don't think now is the right time to show up at her doorstep," Santana offers. Successfully maneuvering Quinn through the subway entrance and paying for both of them.

They're sitting in the train car and rocking back and forth and Santana's concentrating so hard on sending menacing glares to the creepy man sitting at the other end of the car that she almost misses Quinn mumbling something.

"Rachel, you're so comfy," She mutters, leaning into Santana more. Santana doesn't bother to correct her. Because it's a lost cause at this point. "I's sorry I freaked out."

* * *

><p>"Rise and shine sleeping beauty!" Santana yells, pulling the covers off of Quinn and pulling the blinds open. She just got back from her exam—which she completely owned—and is not at all surprised to find Quinn still passed out on her bed.<p>

She hears Quinn moaning and watches her clutch her head.

"My head feels like it's going to crack in half," She groans out, covering her eyes. She grabs the water and the Advil pills that Santana sets in front of her.

"Now that you're semi-coherent, your ungrateful ass is going to tell me what the hell is going on with you and Berry. And no, before you say it's none of my business, let me remind you that I got up at four in the morning, when I specifically stayed in because I had an exam at 9 in the morning, to practically carry your plastered ass back home, buy a stupid apple pie because you had to pee at McDonald's and then listen to you moon over Yentl the entire way back," She lets out in a huff.

Quinn's face turns a particularly entertaining shade of red and Santana knows she's won.

* * *

><p>Santana almost laughs but then Quinn narrows her eyes and she clamps her mouth shut.<p>

"Dude, I thought you were okay with the whole gay liberation front," Santana says dryly, taking a bite out of her hot dog. They're sitting in Central Park actually having a conversation about all of this and all Santana can think about is that they're talking about Quinn actually having feelings for Rachel fucking Berry.

"I mean, in case you didn't know it. I'm kind of gay," Santana finishes, looking at her.

"Yes, you did successfully flush out all the anti-gay sentiments my parents brainwashed me into believing…but this has nothing to do with it."

"Okay…" Santana trails off, crumpling up her hot dog wrapper and throwing it into the trashcan.

"It's just a little scary," Quinn starts. "I mean, I always noticed it in high school."

Santana snorts. This is old news.

"Please, I was there and I have wonderful gaydar."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Quinn asks quietly.

"Oh sure, something along the lines of 'Hey Quinn, I know your parents will probably lock you up in an institution if they heard this, but you look like a flaming homo who wants to push Berry up against a wall and fuck her senseless every time you look her'," Santana finishes off, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Okay, maybe not," Quinn grimaces. She covers her face with her hands.

"We're not in Lima anymore, Q," Santana explains. "Without the cheerios uniform and the sundress and the plaid skirts—we're just Santana, Quinn and Rachel."

Quinn just looks at her and Santana can't help but pull her into a hug.

"Take that leap of faith these people in cheesy movies are always talking about," Santana mumbles. "Besides, I will literally fail out of law school before I even get there if I keep having to get up at 3 in the morning to pick your drunk ass up because you're so hung up on Berry."

She burps particularly loudly and Quinn just crinkles her nose.

"I will never get over how disgusting you are sometimes."

"Whatever, you love it."

* * *

><p>So there you have it.<p>

Quinn's an idiot and she's scared shitless with the idea of actually being in love with someone. Let alone Rachel Berry. The irony of it all.

It takes a while, but when it finally happens, Santana actually feels really happy for them. Not that anyone would be able to tell with all the gagging noises she makes every time she's around them. The first time she wakes up and finds Rachel making coffee in their kitchen, she almost has a heart attack. And then it sinks in and she kind of just sits down and has a normal conversation with her best friend's girlfriend. And it kind of fits.

She feels like that pathetic Ted guy from How I Met Your Mother, suddenly a third wheel. But she doesn't really mind at all. She doesn't even mind every time she walks in on them. Or when they're being disgustingly in love in public.

She's still fucking awesome anyways.

* * *

><p>Senior year comes to a close and Santana wishes she could just celebrate them graduating, her getting into Columbia Law and Quinn getting into Columbia Med but she can't.<p>

Rachel left and it's pretty depressing just being within a ten mile radius of Quinn.

Santana's walking down the street, about to light up a cigarette, when she sees the midget sitting at a bus stop across the street. It's a rainy day and she knows the damn bus is taking its sweet ass time getting here.

Point of the matter is, it's gloomy as fuck and she doesn't need an encounter with Yentl over here to ruin it even more.

But then she remembers the distraught phone call from Quinn that she got at 3 in the freaking morning and that alone is enough to prompt her to walk across the street. Her anger begins to escalate with every step and she has to remind herself that she's never going to become a lawyer if she strangles Rachel Berry in public.

"Santana—" Rachel stiffens like a board when she sees her. She's got a suitcase with her and she looks like hell.

"Can it," Santana says sharply, plopping down next to her without so much as a look at the other girl despite not having seen her in almost two weeks.

"Dumbass," the words roll out of her mouth as she makes a move to light her cigarette.

"I guess I deserve that," Rachel manages to say, grabbing the still unlit cigarette from Santana's hand on reflex. The other girl glares at her.

"I'm talking about Quinn," She elaborates, watching Rachel's face fall and fishing out another cigarette. "I warned her you'd break her heart. Never listens to me."

Rachel sits up again and attempts to put on a face, because she's just that goddamn stubborn.

"That's preposterous. As if you knew this was going to happen. What, with your track record and all, oh omnipotent one," She attempts spit back as she swats away the unlit cigarette from Santana's hands again. Sarcasm is definitely something she picked up from Quinn.

It takes all the self control in her and years of training in high school to not deck the girl next to her.

"Rachel, shut up. Can you be fucking serious here," She almost yells out in frustration.

"And stop fucking stealing my cigarettes, you don't even smoke," She adds after a minute, yanking the cigarette currently nested in Rachel's fingers.

"These things are going to kill you!" Rachel yells, waving the cigarette for emphasis.

'You two are going to fucking kill me,' is what she thinks to herself. She pinches her brow ridge before attempting to light up another cigarette. She's ready to literally burn Rachel's hand in the event that she decides to yank it away again and she's glad that she doesn't. She's so tired of having to wade through all of this shit. Quinn looks so damn unhappy and Santana honestly thinks those tear stains are going to become permanent at this rate.

"This is some class A bull you pulled, Berry," She says plainly, taking a drag of her cigarette. Rachel falters, look at her for a second before looking back down at her feet.

"I know," She agrees quietly. "I've ruined it all. And there's nothing I can do to fix it."

Santana really isn't expecting that admission and she watches Rachel deflate even more. She would rather set herself on fire than admit it to anyone, but it's not just Quinn's feelings that she cares about. They're friends now, and sure, she still feels the need to slap the living daylights out of Rachel occasionally, but she would drop kick anyone else who would even think about slapping the living daylights out of Rachel in a heartbeat.

Santana snorts.

"What can you possibly find humorous now?" Rachel says exasperatedly, turning to look at Santana.

"What happened to the Rachel I knew back when we were kids in Ohio?" She explains. "That chick never gave up on anything. Hell, I'd have to haul you away and you'd still be kicking and screaming; fighting for whatever the fuck it is that you were so passionate about at that time."

"I don't know what happened to her," Rachel says after a minute. "And without Quinn by my side—"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there," Santana interrupts, putting a hand up.

"She's not returning my calls. She probably won't even look at me."

"Don't be an idiot, Berry," Santana sighs. "She still loves you. She is just as in love with you as she was on day one. Whenever the hell day one is, exactly."

"You don't know that," Rachel almost whispers.

But she does know.

"I do. I knew before she even became remotely aware of how she felt about you. I mean, you were blind not to notice, but I was there. Look Rachel, as disappointing as this sounds, your life isn't a TV show. It's not just about how it took forever for you and Quinn to finally get together. Now it's about the shit that comes after the happily ever after."

"And I'm not making shit up when I say that she still looks at you the same way."

Rachel sort of just looks at her and Santana finds it hard to believe that Rachel needs to be told this. Santana literally sees a million emotions and thoughts flit through Rachel's eyes and it's so dizzying, she has to look away.

"I can't believe I have to spell this out to you, but she's always going to look at you like the sun shines out of your ass," Santana finishes. "Just like how she's always going to love you, no matter how annoying and neurotic and psychotic you are sometimes."

Rachel nods slowly, letting the words sink in.

"So stop moping around and fix all of this," Santana says. "I'd really love to be able to sleep again soon."

She pauses, pursing her lips and making sure that Rachel is looking at her.

"But if you break her heart again, I swear to god…" She trails off, because she knows both of them know she's not kidding.

Rachel chuckles after a second and Santana turns to look at her with one eyebrow raised. Not exactly the reaction she's trying to illicit here.

"Who knew that between the three of us, you would be the one handing out advice and forcing people to grow up?"

"Someone has to help you bitches get your shit together," Santana responds with a sigh, rolling her eyes.

* * *

><p>"She came back to you," Is all that Santana says when she walks into their apartment. Then she just sits next to Quinn and lets her best friend soak her favorite shirt with her tears. She cries too, but just because she's been there from the very beginning, and it breaks her to see Quinn and Rachel like this.<p>

* * *

><p>It takes a while.<p>

Quinn's not going forgive Rachel that easily for dropping everything, including her, and running off to the other side of the country to 'find herself.'

But there's also the fact that New York hasn't been as kind to her as it's been to Quinn and Santana. While they're out there, owning exams and getting into their dream schools, Rachel's been faced with rejection after rejection.

They're taking it slow, whatever that means. But Santana doesn't care. All that matters is that they're trying.

* * *

><p>Two years later, Santana's back at the same bus stop. It's kind of stupid to meet in public, because people actually kind of recognize Rachel now, after she appeared in that one musical that Santana literally slept through.<p>

"Rachel, I know you're really into this whole incognito and acting shit, but you do know that I have an apartment right?" Santana hisses as she sits next to Rachel. Quinn and Rachel have moved in together and that's one of the reasons why Rachel said they can't meet at their place.

"I was just being considerate," Rachel says offhandedly. "I didn't know if your girlfriend would be okay with it."

"Rachel, you're_ always_ there, how is this different?" She asks with an exasperated tone.

"Because Quinn can't find out about this," Rachel says quietly, before whipping out a tiny box from her purse.

"Shit," is all that Santana says.

Rachel is quiet before she shows her the ring with a small smile on her face.

"I need your blessing," Rachel finally says, looking at Santana.

* * *

><p>Santana can hear Quinn nervously mumbling above all the noise and she starts laughing. Quinn, slightly terrified as she is, spots her and narrows her eyes.<p>

"You find this absolutely entertaining, don't you" She accuses, watching Santana laugh next to her.

"It's okay, if they drop you, I can counsel your disabled ass for free," She quips as Quinn crosses herself nervously and Santana cracks up even more at the irony of it all.

They lift Quinn up after a second and she lets out a little scream. Quinn looks like she's about to pass out and for a brief moment, Santana becomes genuinely concerned.

But then Rachel's hand reaches out for Quinn's and she gives her this smile that just calms Quinn down. And then they're both laughing and singing and managing not to topple over the chairs and break their necks as the guys clumsily bounce them up and down.

Santana tells herself not to get sentimental and fucking cry.

Instead, she mentally pats herself on the back as she cheers along with the rest of the crowd. Not to be smug, but if it weren't for her, they wouldn't be here now, celebrating the first and last Christian-Jewish wedding that Santana will probably ever attend in her life.


End file.
